This Old Farm.

I tilt from side to side as the car slowly proceeds down

the narrow, earth-framed road.

Directly ahead, the barn sleeps, guarded by the tears of a weeping willow.

The ripples of the creek and the animals within, seem to be conversing.

Acres of newly cut grass are surrounded by a family

of overgrown trees, each holding its own story.

Clouds move quickly to cover the moon,

but the bright power pushes them back.

Under this argument sits a lonely pear tree,

quietly observing.

Stray pears dangle with their ripening weight.

This tree is reborn time and again,

with crackly branches against the blossoming, green fruit.

Peace collects inside the mind,

while a light breeze dances to the cicada’s hymn.

As I sit back, I try to capture every wonderful feeling of this old farm.